Author's Note: Okay, I just want to get everyone on the same page. This fic is going to have a manipulative Dumbledore, but not one who's full-on crazy, and will murder Harry's friends to have his plan work. He's still all for forgiveness, and detests killing, but is willing to manipulate Harry into his plan for the 'Greater Good.'
And in regards to other character bashing, it all depends on how one looks at it. Really all I'm doing is not turning a blind eye to things that Harry ignored in canon, but many people consider that bashing and have labelled it as such, so no one has any objections. Regardless, don't expect those characters to be on good terms with HHr in this story.
However, as this is a dark Harmony story, don't expect forgiveness to be given easily, if at all. A lot of people will die… and I mean a lot.
And many thanks to TyrannicPuppy and SweetShireen for alpha-ing and beta-ing.
Chapter revised as of April 2020.
Chapter 4: Winding Down
Had they just committed Murder?
No.
At least Hermione didn't see it that way. Some would call what they did murder; wrong; dark, but she liked to think of it as an 'excessive level of self-defence.' People such as Dumbledore would certainly see it as murder and evidence that she and Harry were going dark, but they never had premeditated intent to go out looking to kill Dolohov. So murder, it was not.
Okay, maybe what they did was slightly excessive.
But one thing was for sure, Dolohov was dead. And could no longer threaten anyone ever again. The Death Eater who had brought her to death's doorstep was dead, in her living room, killed by an ordinary muggle kitchen knife…
Maybe if she and her parents weren't hit by the cruciatus curse, she'd be laughing at the end that the Death Eater met. The fanatical pureblood, hell-bent on subjugating her kind, was killed by a simple kitchen knife, a tool made by Muggles.
Killed by her.
Forcing herself to stop looking at Dolohov, she turned to her best friend who looked stoic and asked, "What would be the best way for my parents to recover from the cruciatus? I've read some books on the Unforgivables, but I remember a lack of information on how to deal with the aftereffects."
He blinked his eyes before turning his attention to her and hesitated before answering, "We can't exactly take them to St Mungo's, as we'll be asked questions, and I'm not even sure if they'll admit your parents."
She sighed, Yes, of course, because they're Muggles. And the Wizarding World is run by the Purebloods, many of whom see non-magicals as lesser beings. Even the Weasleys, who are some of the most open towards them, still hold a sense of superiority over Muggles.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm not an expert, but all I can recommend is that they get some rest."
She nodded her head sadly and took her gaze away from Harry and made her way over to her parents. The bloodied kitchen knife which was still in her hand simply dropped to the floor. She walked past Harry who thankfully was still looking at her without disgust or fear. Her path continued on to her parents, and she absentmindedly heard the curtains close behind her, and the light in the room dim.
Arriving in front of her parents, Hermione took in the image. They had been subjected to the cruciatus curse multiple times, and from a Death Eater no less. Their eyes were bloodshot, their breathing still hard and were holding onto each other for dear life. Her mum looked up to her with what she knew was fear, as it was the same look Dolohov had given her, just before she slit his throat. But her mum's expression changed instantly into one of concern, upon seeing that Hermione had no intention of hurting her. Helen pulled an arm away from her husband and made a motion for Hermione to join them. She was about to go towards them, but then looked at the state of her dress and her hands.
Blood.
It seemed that when she had killed the Death Eater, her reckless method of slicing his throat, inexperienced, had resulted in his blood being splattered over her top, hands and Harry's clothes.
Oddly enough the blood didn't affect her in a way it probably should've. The feel of it should've disgusted her, made her feel dirty and want to clean it immediately, but she herself didn't really mind. But the very fact that it was Dolohov's blood, the man who haunted her nightmares, the person she'd just killed almost felt good in some odd weird way while simultaneously disgusting her for the exact same reasons.
Maybe I'm going a bit crazy, thought Hermione. She had realised that she feared less, cared less and thought more violently than before. After thinking about it deeply she pinpointed the timing of this back to when Dolohov first hit her with his mysterious curse. But while it had changed her in some ways, she was almost grateful in a crude way. For she knew the old Hermione would've been too scared and self-conscious to pursue Harry in a romantic relationship, and wasn't even sure if she'd accept a possible romance with Harry otherwise.
But apart from these darker thoughts and the slight confidence boost she was still very much herself. And to be honest she liked these new developments. She'd never been this happy and fulfilled with herself before, which had her wondering if maybe this darkness was always inside her, wanting to be released in some form or another.
And it wasn't only her who was different, so was Harry.
Before Harry had been a very subdued boy, one who was willing to follow orders when necessary and only acted out on occasion. Dumbledore used to be a figure he looked up to and respected but the fact that it only took Harry a short time to realise the Headmaster's part in his childhood and school years, showed that he'd mostly outgrown his naivety and dependency on authority figures. And the fact that Harry told her that he appreciated her made her feel so many different things.
It was really nice to know that these emotions went both ways between her and Harry, and weren't one-sided. The added intimacy of their deepened relationship had only strengthened her emotions for him if before they were the size of Britain they were now the size of the entire Earth.
He was also less caring for the consequences, but not in a reckless way. He thought more, talked more and did more. She had to admit that seeing Harry attacking Dolohov was somehow rather attractive. It sounded weird but Hermione had no idea how to describe it. Furthermore, Harry seemed perfectly alright with her slight change in character, and with how events unfolded around Dolohov, and his casual attitude to her afterwards… well, maybe he had just as much inner darkness as her.
Hermione was now contemplating whether or not to embrace this newfound darkness, but she knew ultimately her choice would come down to what Harry would do. She'd follow him to the ends of the earth, and if he decided to firmly stay in the 'light' then she would as well… but if he felt the same way as her, well they'd make sure to wipe the pureblood fanatics from the country.
So because of her current bloody state, she decided not to join in her parents' embrace, even though she desperately wanted to comfort them. They had already seen her slit the throat of a man who'd come into their house and tortured them with magic, she didn't want to further traumatise them by potentially smothering them in blood.
"I'd hug you if I could but…" she told her parents and purposefully showed her blood-covered hand with a grimace. "Umm…" she didn't really know how to continue. I mean how would you? How would you justify killing someone to your parents without having them freak the fuck out?
Once again Hermione saw that brief look of fear on her mum's face before being replaced by an unsure smile. Her dad's face, however, was unreadable and it unnerved her, but his words put her at ease. "You did what you had to do honey…" She didn't miss the shiver that went through her mum, but her dad seemed serious.
In a soft voice, she informed, "Harry suggested the best way to heal from that spell is to rest… he's been under it before and knows what it's like… I'm sorry that you two got involved."
Her mum nodded mutely, while her dad glanced behind her and asked, "Do you need some help moving the body? I can call some friends who I trust implicitly…" She now noticed that her mum was giving Robert a look of confusion.
Hermione shook her head and with a grimace replied, "Harry and I will deal with it… don't worry about it." While her dad still looked as stoic as ever, she didn't miss the fearful emotion conveyed by his eyes. "It'll be gone by the time you wake back up," she assured.
But I have no idea how we're going to do that...
"You're sure? I really ca—"
"I'm sure," she assured.
Robert furrowed his brows and said hesitantly, "Okay, if you really are sure, we'll get some rest."
Her parents made to move past her and towards their room. When passing her, Helen softly said with a croak and tearful eyes, "Hey, Hermione?"
"Mum?"
"I still love you, honey."
"Me too," she responded, feeling tears prickling at her eyes.
Inside Hermione's mind, her thoughts were raving, considering all the possible things her parents would be thinking of her and was glad that they both seemed to still love her regardless of what she had done right in front of them.
Robert stepped in front of her and attempted to crouch down in front of her, but the lingering effects of the cruciatus caused him to wince in pain. "Hermione, I'm sure you had your reasons for what you and Harry did, and I hope you'll both tell us about why in the morning… okay?"
She nodded, "Of course, dad."
"Good." Robert looked towards the living room door, which was empty, but she could hear footsteps in the distance. "Look, I'll go talk to your mum tonight. She's just a bit shocked is all but will you both be fine tonight?"
"We'll be fine," she said barely above a whisper.
"I'll be here for you no matter what, Hermione. You'll always be my little girl." He paused and gave a soft smile, "Night Hermione."
"Night dad…" she replied with a sad smile.
Reluctantly Robert left the room, only taking a brief look at Harry and the dead Death Eater.
Deciding she'd better make sure Harry was okay, Hermione looked around the room to locate her boyfriend. It didn't take her long to spot Harry, the raven-haired boy looking at the curtains covering the window, unmoving, sitting on the arm of the couch. She walked up to her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around his chest holding onto him with a firm hold, bringing her body into full contact with his back, not caring that she was probably adding blood to his clothes, but considering they were already bloody she doubted he'd mind and was appreciating her touch instead.
"Are you okay?" they both asked quietly at the exact same moment. At that Harry turned to look at her with a soft look on her face, she gave him a nearly imperceptible smile.
Not willing to raise her voice she answered first, "I'm okay. You're okay. My parents will be okay." She slowly brought up her clean hand to his cheek, caressing it carefully. Harry sighed and leaned his head into her palm revelling in her touch.
After lifting his head free of her palm he said softly, "Hermione, not everything is fine. I heard you screaming." He looked into her eyes with a sense of concern and squeezed her hand and asked, "What spell did he hit you with?"
She shrugged, "The cruciatus."
His eyes went wide, "Hermione, you can't just shrug off that type of thing, the whole point of that curse is to torture you." Harry's features went paler as he added, "And I've been under the spell myself I know how much it hurts."
She shook her head, "It was painful, but I've been under worse." And without realising it she let out a small sniff, causing Harry to bring her into a tight embrace, with her head almost naturally going under his.
It was the truth, the cruciatus was bad and extremely painful, but wasn't as painful as the curse that Dolohov had hit her within the Ministry. Whereas that spell caused her extremely prolonged pain, where it felt like her insides were eating her up, the Cruciatus, while having more initial pain, lasted for a much shorter time, which in her mind made it seemingly insignificant compared to Dolohov's other curse.
Though she acknowledged that she was only under the torture curse for a few seconds, Harry knew the effects of the spell better than anyone she knew, for he had been under Voldemort's spell, which most certainly would've been much more powerful than Dolohov's.
He then fixed her with a serious gaze, "You should talk to your parents some more and get some rest as well."
His advice would be more sound than anyone's, regardless, she didn't want to leave him alone in favour of her own comfort. Slightly frustrated she glared at her boyfriend, "And leave you alone?!" she questioned in a raised voice. "If you think I'll let that happen ever again, you're wrong, Potter."
He breathed in deeply and replied, "I—I just don't want you to lose your parents. I grew up without mine, and my childhood was bloody horrible. You should spend some time with them, to avoid this, I don't want you to lose your family." While rubbing her hands, with his own.
"I'll talk to them tomorrow," she dismissed. Looking down at his soft touch, Hermione spotted that Harry's hands were splattered in blood and his knuckles bruised. "Oh, Harry, your hands…"
"Hermione, just get some rest, please," he insisted, attempting to change topics.
She fixed him with a serious gaze, "Harry, when will you realise I will always put you first?! No matter what you do, who you hurt, or—" she paused, wondering if she should continue. "Or who you kill, I will always be there." His lips parted as if to respond, but it seemed that she had rendered him speechless, "Now let's take turns and have showers, we need to get out of these blood-stained clothes."
He sighed, "Okay, but afterwards we're going to get some rest okay?"
She shot him an adoring smile, "Of course, now go." When he didn't move she waved her hands and more forcefully said, "Go."
He rolled his eyes but went off to do as he was told, although his smile was evident.
After taking a quick shower where he managed to rinse off any blood of Dolohov that he had on him he came back into the living room, towards a quiet Hermione. He gave her a soft smile and walked up to her.
Harry noticed that she had cleaned her hands, but she still seemed a bit distraught but whether it was over her parents' conditions, or what she had done to Dolohov, he wasn't sure.
When he was directly in front of her, he brought her into a soft kiss, which was reciprocated almost instantly. After separating Hermione gave him a small smile, "What was that for?"
He shrugged, and nonchalantly replied, "You seemed like you needed it." He paused before asking with a smirk, "Feel better?"
Her eyes had a playful glint, "Yes, thank you. I'm going to go take a shower now, meet back here?"
"Sure thing."
He smiled at her, but Hermione was having none of that, and being mindful of the blood on her brought him into another, more passionate kiss. She winked on her way out.
Harry's gaze didn't stop following his girlfriend until she left the room.
Never knew her to be so feisty, thought Harry. Not that he minded one bit, it was great that he could have just as much if not more fun with her rather than Ron.
Do you even need Ron now? Said a dark voice in his head. He shook his head, ignoring such a thought. But it didn't stop his doubts of his so-called best friend rising back up.
Harry brought his mind back to the conversation they had before he washed up. He knew that she was loyal but like that loyal?! I guess I have never really thought about how devoted she truly is to me. I mean she said I could kill people and she'd still be there. And I suppose, considering what we just did, that proved that she was completely serious.
This train of thought caused him to look back at Dolohov's body. While it had only been thirty or so minutes since they killed him the smell was quickly becoming unbearable, and he knew that the smell of decomposition would take hours to be noticeable, so presumably Dolohov had literally shat himself.
He must've been really scared of two teenagers to do that… and rightfully so.
He knew he'd have to discuss with Hermione on what they were supposed to do with the body, let alone move it without magic.
Moving a body? I'm saying that as if it's a common occurrence… What's wrong with me?!
And thinking about his own sanity led to an even darker and scarier thought. The fact that he didn't feel guilt over killing the Death Eater.
Truthfully, he did believe that Dolohov truly deserved to die. And that they were indeed justified in killing him. But… There was no guilt, no regret nothing over the fact that he had just killed someone, a human being and not cared at all.
Sure, Dolohov was a horrible person, a Death Eater, a fanatical racist pureblood who'd probably raped and killed more people than he could count on his fingers, and got away with all those crimes as well.
But he was still human, with thoughts and dreams, and no matter how evil, bad or disgusting he was, he deserved to at least have some sympathy felt over his death, right?
There was nothing though. Harry felt there should be a part of him that felt something, some guilt after the act, yet it was like he was numb, or desensitised to such guilt.
Dolohov deserved to die, he told himself. He came here with one intent, and that was to torture and kill Hermione. The very fact that he went into a Muggle neighbourhood to do so, shows just how willing and determined he was to inflict pain on Hermione. And no one hurts my Hermione.
He nearly verbally snorted, My Hermione? She's not some object that I own. But she's my best friend, my girlfriend my—He decided not to continue that train of thought.
When he was beating the shit out of Dolohov, he knew he was in full control the whole time. He could've stopped himself at any time, yet he didn't want to. It had only taken a second to figure out that the connection to Voldemort played little to no influence in what he did, as there was no pain from his scar, and hadn't felt Voldemort attempt to reach into his mind since the Ministry. Additionally, his mental defences were improved as he'd done some Occlumency practice, even if it was limited. He was going to make sure to ask Hermione to help him, and maybe vice-versa, in case someone decided to attempt Legilimency on either of them. Which he wouldn't put above Dumbledore, and certainly not Snape.
But no, he was the one who caused Dolohov's face to become disfigured, due to excessive force. He was the reason… and it strangely felt good. He knew from some novels that when the hero kills the antagonist they don't feel satisfied or justified with the act. Saying after that maybe it wasn't the best choice to kill them. While he hadn't actually committed the final act, he heavily contributed to it, and if given the chance he knew he would've been the one to slit Dolohov's throat… Or maybe I'd stab the cunt in the chest and stomach multiple times till he bled out dry...
He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of these dark thoughts.
Am I a hero? Wondered Harry. Ever since he found out who his parents were he always wondered if he would become the hero that nearly everyone looked up to him as. And for the first five years at Hogwarts, it seemed like he lived up to people's expectations, even if Dumbledore played a massive role in creating that perception of him.
However, Harry knew that heroes should not take 'pleasure'—Is that what it was?—In hurting people, regardless of who it was. That was the type of thing that Death Eaters took joy in. They took joy in hurting and killing innocent people. But then again, Dolohov was about the furthest person from innocent that Harry could think of, only being put below, Voldemort and Dumbledore.
He'd always wondered what the fine line was between the 'light' and the 'dark.' In second year, just because he had the ability to speak Parseltongue, the majority of the school believed him to be the next dark lord in training. Thinking that for some reason he'd petrify a bunch of Muggleborn students. Maybe it was all about a person's perspective on the thing. And could a 'dark' wizard use magic against 'evil?'
Why am I even thinking about this? He wondered, before chuckling bitterly to himself, Perhaps I am going dark. I mean it seems like all the evidence is pointing towards it… Next thing I know I'll be a serial killer who targets Death Eaters…
...Is that such a bad thing?
The fuck! How is being a serial killer in any context, not a bad thing? What the hell is wrong with me?
He brought his hands up to his face and looked down, sighing defeatedly. He put one of his hands back on the arm of the couch before another, smaller hand grabbed his.
"What are you thinking about?" asked Hermione as she rubbed her thumb in a pattern on his hand.
Looking up into those warm, chocolate brown eyes he couldn't help but smile. There was just something about her eyes, that made Harry get lost in them so easily. While brown may be a more common eye colour, than his green, her eyes, and her eyes alone were a complete wonder to the raven-haired teen. Something which he had never appreciated in the past, but now he took more notice.
She was now fully cleaned up, wearing a summer dress he'd never seen before and a light overcoat on top. Her hair after being washed was a clean shade of brown, and curls galore. While he had never told her so, he loved her bushy hair much more than whenever she had tried to straighten it. It was just such a 'Hermione' look. And oh how he loved that look.
Forcing his gaze off the witch he briefly looked at the blood-stained carpet and the very obvious and evident body, he said, "We need to move his body first." and turned back to her with a wry smile, "And then we'll talk after."
As he got up to move he heard her begin, "Wha—what I di—"
"Hermione I could never hate you… besides he did deserve it." And gave her a soft-lingering kiss on the lips, before hugging her tightly, to which she responded with a sigh of content and relief.
"Yes," she practically whispered. "Yes, he did." Her second sentence sounding dark and alluring.
Harry pushed her back softly so he could observe her features, where he spotted a tear slowly dripping down her face, and with his right index finger, went to wipe it away.
With a sniff and a teary smile, Hermione mumbled, "Thanks," slightly embarrassed.
"Anytime, Hermione." He trailed off, "Anytime…"
He put his forehead against hers where the duo stayed in comfortable silence, relishing their closeness, before Hermione broke the moment and asked, "Umm… how do we get rid of it?
He sighed, Right... that's a good question. I have no idea how to move it via Muggle means and we can't use magic… unless.
"Hermione, how does the Ministry track underage use of magic?" he asked.
"It detects when a student of Hogwarts uses magic in a Muggle prone area, there is no public information on how they track us, but I assume they put some sort of charm on us during first year."
''Damn," he muttered.
"Why? What was your idea?" inquired Hermione, interested to hear his potential idea.
"I thought we could maybe use Dolohov's wand since I thought the Ministry tracked us through our wands," he informed.
"That may be the case," replied Hermione. "But if it isn't, we could end up in deep trouble, especially considering you've already on your last leg for the underage use of magic."
"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione, as if she had an idea.
"Oh?"
She shook her head, "God, I'm stupid."
Harry scoffed, "Hermione you're far from stupid. Trust me on that."
She raised an eyebrow, "We both know a friend who can help us, without causing any trouble."
Who? He instantly wanted to blurt out but decided to think on it first. Maybe it'd be better to think before acting all the time, as recklessness was likely to get him killed one day.
After a few seconds he thought, Oh my god, I'm really just as illogical as other wizards…
"Right, Dobby, of course," he said wanting to facepalm himself.
She gave a small smile, happy that he figured it out, which made him feel a sense of satisfaction. Neither of them had heard the quiet pop that sounded nearby.
He was about to call Dobby but first decided to glance once more at the body.
The body of Dolohov which should've still been on the carpet, with his face down. But there wasn't anything there.
He shared a sideways glance with Hermione before an excited elf skipped in front of them.
"Uhh—Dobby? Hello?" said Harry slightly confused, not realising that he must have called the elf during their previous conversation.
"Dobby has taken care of the body," said the house-elf with what Harry could only describe as an evil grin. One which sent a shiver down his spine.
Maybe it's better not to ask… thought Harry.
"Did you realise who that was Dobby?" asked Harry cautiously.
"Yes, Dobby know. It was Mister Dolohov, very bad friend of bad old Master Lucius. Dobby happy that Miss Miney and Master Harry Potter got rid of the bad man."
Well, that was certainly blunt.
Hermione rose an eyebrow, "Master Harry Potter?"
He rolled his eyes, "Hermione is this the best time?"
She glared at him briefly and hissed, "Later then."
He didn't know why Dobby was calling him 'master' but he hoped he was doing it out of his free will, and not because he was bonded to him. Hermione would be furious if the latter was the case.
Harry gave a small nod but didn't shy away from her gaze, before looking back at Dobby.
"Okay, well thank you Dobby."
Dobby nodded his head and said, "Bad man had money on him," and handed Hermione what must have been a sack of a few hundred galleons before he said his goodbyes and disappeared with a crack.
Harry smirked at Hermione, "Well, there's some more money for your endless supply of books."
"Prat," she said while lightly punching him on the arm. "Is this really the best time for jokes?" she added with a raised brow but he didn't miss the hint of a smile which broke through her expression.
"We may as well stay positive, right?"
She paused thinking about it before replying, "Yes, we should," while beaming at him.
Hermione went to pass him Dolohov's wand, "The wand feels dead to me, but I thought it may have some uses in the future."
As he wrapped his hands around it he felt a familiar touch to it, not unlike the one from his own. It wasn't as present as his phoenix feather wand, but regardless, it was still evident. Guess I'll have to read up on some wand lore later then. I don't recall ever getting this feeling from another wand.
"It doesn't feel dead to me," replied Harry. "It's almost the same as when I touch my own wand, though I can feel the connection is weaker."
Hermione frowned at this new development before she started to run off upstairs, calling out behind, "I have a book on Wandlore, I'll be right back!"
He shook his head in amusement. Of course, Hermione would have a book on Wandlore.
A minute later a frazzled Hermione returned with a large book in her hand.
"Just how fast did you run?" asked Harry, amused.
She pursed her lips, "I said I'd be right back."
"That you did," he replied, amused.
Together they looked through the book for any relevant information as to why Harry would feel something from the wand but not Hermione. Well 'together' was a loose term. Truthfully Hermione was doing all the work and Harry was trying to skim read with her to the best of his ability. Though he never got past the halfway mark before she turned the page.
"Here," she said and pointed at a paragraph. "A wand's loyalty may change when the previous owner is defeated by another wizard or witch. Hence another reason as to the argument that the 'Wand chooses the Wizard.'"
"So because I was the one who 'defeated' Dolohov, the wand now works for me?"
"Yes, I think that's correct. So you may have little trouble casting spells with it, whereas someone like me who doesn't have its loyalty would struggle to attempt magic with said wand," she explained.
So apparently 'disarming' a wizard with the use of a golf club, and relentlessly hitting said wizard caused Dolohov's wand to change it's loyalty to him. He wasn't all that comfortable having Dolohov's wand, but a spare wand may come in handy at some point. And he could always destroy it in the future. "I'll keep it as a spare in case the need for it arises."
"I agree, that's a good idea. I doubt anyone will suspect you having another wand if you get disarmed." She paused before changing topics and without asking Harry directly said, "How did Dolohov manage to find my address?"
"And better yet how did he get past the defences and order member Dumbledore promised to give us?" added Harry.
He watched as Hermione's face turned to shock, "Oh, Harry. That means there will probably be a dead wizard outside."
"Shit," he responded before they both ran through the front door and outside gripping his phoenix wand, ready to strike in case there was another Death Eater around, he'd bear the consequences to ensure the Grangers were now safe.
Looking around he saw nothing, the front was completely clear and showed no evidence of any damage. There certainly wasn't anybody lying in the open, but that didn't mean there wasn't a dead Order member around.
"Oi!" cried out a slurred voice. "What are yous two doing out here? Dumbledore said you should stay inside."
Yeah, cause a fat load of good that did.
"Who's there?" asked Harry, while getting a grip on his wand.
"Finite" came a muffled voice before it revealed a person Harry loathed to see.
"Mundungus," he said in a cold tone. He never liked the man, especially knowing that he was a former criminal and the one responsible for guarding him when the Dementors attacked Privet Drive. That whole event could've been avoided if he actually did his job, instead of having Harry cast his Patronus Charm to defend himself.
Though I doubt he'd be able to cast anything remotely resembling the charm.
It also seemed that the aversive attitude was reciprocated for Mundungus disliked everyone but Dumbledore.
Fletcher held up a finger before downing the last drops of alcohol from a bottle. The two looked on in disgust at the image in front of them. It was obvious that Mundungus hadn't seen or known about Dolohov before or after his death.
So that's why we got no warning to Dolohov's attack. This idiot was probably out buying a drink while Hermione and her family were attacked. If I wasn't there…
"Now," began Fletcher. "Dumbledore wants—" he paused, "—wants you inside for your safeeety."
Harry nodded his head so that he'd think nothing was amiss. "Yes, sorry about that, Mr Fletcher, we'll be on our way," said Hermione while nudging Harry back inside.
Mundungus looked at them as if he was going to say something before shrugging and casting a disillusionment charm on himself.
Once inside the confines of the kitchen, Harry began, "The fucking idiot didn't even know that a Death Eater appeared and nearly killed you and your family!? I'm beginning to wonder if Dumbledore purposefully ordered Mundungus there and failed to put up any wards. Because I'm sure if there were any, Dolohov would've had a much harder time going unnoticed. And how did he even get access to your address in the first place? Let alone get the idea to knock instead of barging in. Clearly, someone gave him, the Death Eater the idea, for such a concept would've been foreign to him."
"Harry," tried Hermione.
He continued, not hearing Hermione, "And if someone else gave him the idea this means that they'll know he was going after you. If the Death Eaters find out, you'll most certainly be a bigger target."
"Harry."
Harry looked down and put his head in his hands, "This is all my fault," he mumbled.
"Harry!" yelled Hermione, while hitting the table.
Finally, her voice rang through to him; which caused him to look at her, who was gazing back with a serious look.
"Stop. Blaming. Yourself."
"Wha—"
"Honestly, Harry. I thought you had outgrown your 'blame-yourself-for-everything' syndrome. You should—no—will stop blaming yourself."
"Ah—" he began with an open mouth but noticing Hermione's intense gaze he decided not to argue. "You're right."
"Tell me how this is your fault? Dolohov was coming only for m—wait, what? Did you just agree?"
He chuckled in response and with a cheeky grin replied, "Yes."
Hermione had the most peculiar face Harry had ever seen before. She obviously didn't think that he'd actually agree with her on this matter. After years of being Hermione's friend, Harry knew better than to argue some points.
"You're right. This isn't my fault, at least directly." He held up a hand to stop her silent protest and continued, "Dolohov came here to kill you, and clearly had no idea I was even there. Dumbledore's defences also failed, assuming that he even put any up," he said with a scowl. "I just—dread to think what would've happened if I wasn't here Hermione… And you can't deny that Dolohov was only here because of events last year, which were caused by me."
She dramatically rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh, "Well... at least it's progress."
He gave her a sheepish smile in response.
"Now… regarding Dobby."
He raised his hands in surrender, "I swear! I have no idea why he called me master."
She looked at him with a critical gaze, "Okay, well let's clarify with the house-elf himself then."
Harry gulped, hoping that he wasn't actually Dobby's master. Firstly, he didn't want to be. Secondly, he most definitely did not want to face Hermione's wrath. Lastly, he had no bloody idea of how he could've possibly bonded with the over-excited elf.
"Dobby!" he called out.
"Yes Master Harry Potter?" said Dobby magically appearing right in front of them with a pop.
He saw Hermione's half-hearted glare at him, at that. "Okay Dobby, I need to clear something up… why do you call me Master?" he paused before cautiously asking, "We aren't bonded are we…"
The house-elf fidgeted nervously with his tiny fingers before finally replying, "No, we's aren't bonded. Dobby's a free elf, Dobby like being a free elf! He just wanted to call the Great Harry Potter, Master."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione let out a sigh of relief and a moment later she wrapped her arm around Harry in apology.
"Well Dobby, we'd appreciate you just calling me Mr Harry Potter or Harry."
"Wait!" interrupted Hermione. "If you're only doing it by choice Dobby, you're free to call Harry whatever you want." Harry turned to look at his girlfriend who was wearing a bright smile and was slightly flustered, probably due to her initial assumption being proven incorrect.
"Miss Miney is so nice!" exclaimed Dobby. "I's be calling you Mistress Miney now!"
Harry trying to hold in his laughter said, "Yes you can, thank you Dobby."
The little elf nodded his head in acknowledgment before disappearing with a crack. As soon as he disappeared Harry's laughter filled the room.
While laughing he turned to look at Hermione to which he was surprised to see was trying to hold in her own laughter. He began laughing louder, causing Hermione to finally let out her own laughter.
After the duo stopped their laughing fit, which must've been a couple of minutes Hermione said, "So does that mean Dobby thinks we're married?"
Keeping up the act he said with a wink, "Would that be such a bad thing?"
She responded with a kiss, and then another.
"Anyway, we're much too young for that," she said bringing back seriousness. "Why don't we get some rest, hmm? It's been a long day," suggested Hermione.
"That sounds like a good idea," replied Harry.
She hummed in response and the two made their journey upstairs. After Hermione had checked on her parents and told him they were fast asleep, Harry noticed within seconds that Hermione didn't seem to be entirely there and was pondering something, "What's on your mind?"
"Huh?" she replied automatically. "Oh, nothing," she added, dismissing him.
He rose his eyebrows at her in a way which said, 'bullshit.'
"Okay, fine." She stopped straight in front of her door and looked around nervously as if afraid someone was looking at them. "We're 'together' now right?"
"If you mean by 'together'" replied Harry, using air quotes, "You mean, girlfriend and boyfriend, yes of course. Considering that we kiss, snuggle and I literally asked you if you wanted to be my girlfriend and you agreed, yes." It was quite an outlandish question from Hermione, for Harry thought that it would've been quite obvious that they were, having just listed off the reasons. He tilted his head and added, "I thought you were usually the one to list off these things, not me… Is everything all right between us?"
She gave him a genuine smile and replied, "Yes, I don't see why it wouldn't be, we're both happy, right?" He nodded in response. "So we can—" she give him a weird look and used her hands to motion towards her room.
Surely she doesn't mean that, thought Harry. "Hermione, I'm pretty daft, I don't think I understand what you're implying… if you know what I mean."
It took her a moment to understand his meaning before her face turned a deep scarlet and she stammered, "No—no not that... 'at least not yet,'" though Harry wasn't sure if the last bit was a whisper or his own imagination. Hermione shook her head out of the embarrassment and looked up at him and simply asked, "Can we just rest together? It was really nice the last time."
Which caused him to recall 'the last time' with a smile, having been the first night he arrived, which eventually resulted in their first kiss in the morning. "Yes, it really was. And of course, Hermione. Besides," he gave her a sheepish smile, "I don't think I could deny you anything."
"I might hold you to that," she said with a smirk before the two made their way inside. After Hermione took off her outer layer Harry looked slightly embarrassed at her exposed skin, causing her to roll her eyes and say, "Seriously…"
"Sorry, just, you are beautiful," to which she gave him a thankful smile.
They didn't bother changing into their nightclothes, instead keeping the clothes they changed into after their shower, as their relationship was still relatively new. But once they got in bed any awkwardness seemed to dissipate almost instantly. They had at first laid side by side both looking up into the ceiling, but within seconds Harry couldn't help but cuddle Hermione from behind, something which was met with a sound of content and no resistance.
He found that putting his arms around something helped him relax, especially when that something was Hermione.
"Goodnight," said Harry with a kiss on her bushy mane.
He barely heard her whispered response, "Night."
With Hermione curled in his arms, he attempted to find sleep, but with the day's events, he was far from tired, as his brain was thinking madly about, Dolohov, Dumbledore, Death Eaters and the beautiful witch in his arms.
They laid there in silence, with the only sounds being that of passing cars in the neighbourhood. It must have been twenty minutes before Hermione called out his name.
"Harry?" whispered Hermione.
"Yes?" he whispered back.
"I can't sleep."
"Neither," he replied and felt Hermione shift her body around so she was facing him.
While the room was dark he saw her face morph into a lazy grin, "Looks like we're in a bit of a predicament then."
"Why don't we just talk then?"
"What about?"
Random inconsequential, things preferably… but what would be the point in that? He thought to himself. Maybe I should talk about what's eating me up on the inside, I trust no one else to tell them to. Not Dumbledore, not Ron but always Hermione, always.
"Hermione, am I a monster?"
She frowned at that, "What do you mean, Harry? How could you possibly be a monster?"
"You saw what I did to Dolohov."
She sat up straight, her head leaning on the bed head, "Okay, Harry, let me ask you this. Do you see me as a monster?"
"What, no. Never," he replied scandalised.
She raised an eyebrow, "Harry, if you don't see me as a monster, how could I? Remember I was the one who killed Dolohov, not you, me."
He took a moment to realise that he had been focusing too much on himself and not on Hermione, How does she feel after what she did? Maybe she's barely hanging on but is instead helping me with my problems instead of dealing with her own.
But before he could voice his concern for her she mumbled, "Maybe I am a monster."
"Hermion—"
"It felt satisfying," she confessed. "Killing Dolohov."
He was speechless, never in a million years did he think that Hermione, good, loving and caring Hermione would feel such things. But he'd be a hypocrite to think wrongly of her, considering that he felt the same way.
Spotting his shocked face seemed to break down Hermione's dam, "See now you're disgusted, frightened. I don't even know why I whispered those words to him, reminding him that a Muggleborn killed him. It's cruel, isn't it? Like why did it feel satisfying, justified? I know we agreed that Death Eaters need to die, but the act shouldn't feel like that should it?" He was still trying to figure out how to reply when Hermione said, "Shit," a curse he'd never heard uttered by Hermione. As she tried to get up and leave the bed, Harry refused by grabbing her wrist.
"Harry?" she questioned.
"I meant what I said before Hermione, I could never hate you."
She relented in her attempt to escape and replied, "But how Harry? I—"
He gave a wry grin, "You forget sometimes, Hermione. But we really are quite similar and it applies here too… I don't regret bashing up Dolohov, just like I don't regret attending Hogwarts, or meeting you, or having our first kiss." saying the last part with a reminiscent smile. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you how wrong it is to feel like that because I'd be a hypocrite if I did.
"I felt it too, the satisfaction, the lack of guilt, the sense of justice. And now all I want to do is do the same or even worse to Voldemort and all his Death Eaters. Return the treatment they have given to so many innocents before making them die so they can't pose a threat any longer."
Hermione had watched him wide-eyed and replied with a simple, "Same."
They entered an uncomfortable silence, where Harry could feel the tension in the air brewing. He let out a dark chuckle, "God, we're both broken..."
"Maybe everyone is in their own way," she replied after a few moments but didn't argue his point.
He silently agreed with her. Still, he knew Ron, Dumbledore and his friends would only see their actions as black and white; proof that he, and now Hermione were turning to the dark.
It was left unsaid but maybe they were both in some form or another, monsters. Maybe not towards each other but to open society who look down upon these type of practices.
Maybe that's all life was, Harry mused. Some event or catastrophe that forces people to change whether for better or worse. Even if that includes doing unconventional decisions, but never losing hold of everyone.
Harry gave her an encouraging smile, "Come closer, Hermione. Let's just rest and deal with this another time."
Hermione smiled back and shuffled over to him, where he wrapped his arms tightly around her.
Harry had discovered in recent days that the most satisfying feeling of all was having the bushy-haired witch right next to him, wherever that may be. Nothing could compare to that.
